Believe In Me
by fantasyxfreeme
Summary: Oneshot songfic. Mitchie's feelings are decidedly unreturned by her best friend. Mitchie/Mikayla, Demena, femmeslash, yada yada. don't like, don't read.


**100% from real-life experience. I'm sorry I keep dumping on Mitchie! Someday I'll make Mikayla feel unrequited too.**

**DISCLAIMER: i DON'T own the amazing song "Believe In Me", that belongs to miss Demi Lovato; nor do I own Mitchie, Mikayla, or Camp Rock. But Lord knows I'd like to ;D**

I'm done. I'm done hurting. I'm done crying. I'm done pretending that everything's okay when it's not. And mostly, I'm done pretending that we're friends when the truth…the truth is that I'm completely in love with my best friend.

I'm sick of feeling like nothing, like I'm not good enough. I'm sick of watching her with countless boys that love her. But you know something? None of them, not one, will ever love her the way I do. And that thought just makes me feel more done with this than ever.

There was always that sliver of hope that somehow, she'd find it in her to turn to me and love me too. Always that one simple hope, deep inside me. The hope that kept me going and looking at her the way I do. But I'm done. There's no hope anymore.

I'm standing outside the club. It's a February night, and it's damn cold, even for Los Angeles. In my hurry I forgot my nice warm jacket inside at the table. But I can't go back in, not now. I'm leaning over the rail out back, attempting to calm my breathing and forget everything that is now going to haunt my dreams forever. And all I want to do is run, run as far away as possible.

I close my eyes, trying to keep my tears from falling. I couldn't deal with that right now. I don't cry often, but when I do, I cry hard and long.

A hand touches my shoulder.

I whip around, startled, and the owner of that hand recoils like it's been burned. "Mitchie…?"

Oh no. Not her. I can't deal with her soft smiles and that beautiful laugh right now.

I put on the fakest smile possible before answering. "Hey, Mickey…"

She's standing in front of me, confused, my jacket folded over her arm. She wordlessly offers it to me. I take it and nod in thanks, before putting it on. Somehow, the jacket didn't help my empty feeling.

"Are you okay, Mitch?" Mikayla asks me. Am I? Well, no, but she can't know that.

"Yeah I'm fine," I smoothly lie, "It just felt really crowded in there and suddenly I didn't feel that great. But I'm okay now that I've gotten some air." Even though that's not what I want to say. No, I want to tell her, I'm not okay, my heart is breaking. I've been watching you dance with Nate all night and it's really hurting me. I've been watching him touch you and hold you, knowing that I never can. I feel like my world is finally crashing down and you're at the center. I can't keep watching you love him. I'm dying.

But I could never say that.

"Oh, okay…" Mickey says. She doesn't look entirely convinced, but I don't blame her. I was never a very good liar and she's not dumb. But she lets it slide. "Do you wanna go?"

I look behind her at the flashing lights and listen to the pounding, blaring music. I glimpse Nate walking around, blind, looking for her. Suddenly, nothing ever sounded better than going home. Where at least she was mine for a little while.

"Yes," I answer with a nod.

She smiles, takes my hand, and leads me through the alley, down the street, and to her car, with no backwards glance or thought of finding Nate.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Finally, I'm alone. Mikayla's gone to take a shower, leaving me in my pj's in her room. I pull my knees up to my chest, tucking them under my chin, and begin to cry softly. If you've never felt like I have before, then it's impossible to describe the way I'm feeling.

I feel kicked in the stomach, forgotten, useless…things I know I shouldn't feel, but can't help it. And it's not like it's her fault she'll never love me. That's just the way things are.

I glance around her room and spot her favorite acoustic guitar sitting in the corner. She's had it since she was eleven, and it was the first guitar she ever owned, before she was famous at all. I stand awkwardly, brushing the tears violently from my eyes, before walking over and picking it up. It's light and familiar in my hands, and I think back to the countless songs we've played for each other on it.

**I'm losing myself**

**Trying to compete**

**With everyone else**

**Instead of just being me**

I sit down on her bed, pulling the shoulder strap onto my body. I pluck each string carefully, listening and tuning it quickly before beginning to play.

**Don't know where to turn**

**I've been stuck in this routine**

**I need to change my ways**

**Instead of always being weak**

I strum a nameless tune, making it up as I go along, before I play a few chords that sound right. I play them again, beginning to hum a melody, and before long, words come to mind. I think I have a chorus, so I put it all together.

"**I don't wanna be afraid**

**I wanna wake up feeling beautiful today**

**And know that I'm okay**

'**Cause everyone's perfect in their usual way**

**So you see, I just wanna believe in me**…"

I'm on a roll now, I'm playing and the words and notes are just coming out of no where. All the pain I've been feeling and all the love I have for Mikayla is just pouring out of me. I close my eyes, not even letting myself feel anything but the strings on my fingers and the notes in my voice.

"**The mirror can lie**

**It doesn't show you what's inside**

**And it, it can tell you you're full of life**

**It's amazing what you can hide**

**Just by putting on a smile…**"

"**I don't wanna be afraid**

**I wanna wake up feeling beautiful today**

**And know that I'm okay**

'**Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways**

**You see, I just wanna believe in me…**"

My voice begins to fade as I finish the chorus again, and in this absence, I hear the faintest of voices speak my name.

"Mitchie?"

I open my eyes, already knowing who it was and that I'd been caught. I say nothing, reaching up to wipe the few tear droplets left over. I move to take the strap off and put the guitar down but Mikayla reaches out.

"Don't…put it away, Mitch. That was beautiful," she says with a smile. She walks the extra few feet to join me on her bed, patting her still-damp hair with the towel in her hand. My angel sits next to me, still smiling. "Please keep playing."

I muster up a small smile. "That was all I had. It was all in my head anyway."

"It really was beautiful," she says. "You should record it. I could feel the emotion in it." Oh you have no idea about the emotion in it, Mickey.

All I can do is keep smiling, looking down at my calloused fingers as they run up and down the strings. I see her move out of the corner of my eye, and then I feel her warm hand cover mine. She squeezes it, looking deep into my eyes.

My heart starts fluttering, and I can tell my cheeks are hot. But as I look back into her eyes, I meet only heart break as usual. The eyes are the window into the soul, and they do not lie. And as I stared into Mikayla's gorgeous brown pools, I knew she did not, and could not love me.

My smile becomes even more fake than before, and I hope to God that Mickey can't see the hurt in my eyes. And before I know what I'm doing, I hear myself:

"**The mirror can lie**

**It doesn't show you what's inside**

**And it, it can tell you you're full of life**

**It's amazing what you can hide**

**Just by putting on a smile…**"

In one last, desperate attempt to stop the silence in which I was in physical pain, I began to softly sing once more. This time I know how long she's been listening to me, as she starts to sing the chorus I'd been singing. My heart throbs as it falls apart. I feel my whole chest aching.

"**I don't wanna be afraid**

**I wanna wake up feeling beautiful today**

**And know that I'm okay**

'**Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways**

**You see, I just wanna believe in me…**"

I feel myself fall apart in her arms. And I know that I will never believe in me.


End file.
